keep your friends close, and your enemies closer
by deadbutts
Summary: —or that time Rize fell in love with Touka, instead. [Touka/Kaneki]


**note:** HERE'S A SOMEWHAT-CRACK FIC 'CAUSE, ADMIT IT, EVERYTHING ABOUT TOKYO GHOUL IS JUST FUCKING _DEPRESSING. _  
><strong>note2:<strong> so has anyone read tokyo ghoul: re? #SPOILER. 'cause there's a hella lot of shite going on about saise and kaneki because _you know.  
><em>**note3:** i swear if touka doesn't feature in tokyo ghoul: re even _once_, i will fucking _shit_ out of the balls of sui ishida-sensei and leave a motherfucking flaming bag of crap in his doorstep. i _swear._  
><strong>note4:<strong> i'm addressing yoriko, "yoriko-chan", 'cause that's kawaii as fuck.  
><strong>note5:<strong> penny, my muse, is mad. she's also my beta-reader, so um, not beta'd. *sniffs*  
><strong>note6:<strong> THIS WILL BE, LIKE, A THREE-CHAPTER FIC BUT REMEMBER THAT I GOT A HELLA SHIT TO DO AND NO I AM _NOT_ OVER-EXAGGERATING BECAUSE THAT JUST HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE FROM A SCIENCE HIGH SCHOOL.  
><strong>note7:<strong> LAST NOTE. this is like, a switch!role between touka and kaneki. not touka and kaneki _themselves_ (oh goodness no i don't need touka with white hair and black nails and shuu doting on touka will be scary as fuck) but just their, um, roles. ifthatswhatyoucallthem.  
><strong>disclaimer:<strong> is it really not obvious

* * *

><p><strong>i. <strong>begin

—

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It all started with a book.

Or, no, maybe it started with Yoriko-chan, stubborn and short and whining, in a sunny Sunday afternoon, standing outside her apartment with her short hair bouncing — her small fist knocking vigorously on the door as it literally _shook_ with every powerful jab of her knuckles.

(And the girl had learned then, that people should never _ever_ judge a book with its cover, but that isn't really what the story is about, right? 'Cause _WOW_, Yoriko-chan! STOP BANGING THE POOR DOOR ALREADY.)

But maybe everything wouldn't have started if it wasn't for their Literature Homework, and stupid Sawada-sensei dissing on her just because she failed the last fucking English test. It wasn't exactly her fault that she'd been too preoccupied to study the night before. Handling just for herself was already difficult without her delinquent ototou-san, _thankyouverymuch! _

(And it didn't exactly help that said delinquent ototou-san has been, what, suspended in his school — for only a week! Thank goodness. But, like, it's his final-fucking-year for Kami-sama's sake! Even _she_ had made it through high-school! —…although barely.)

So since she had "negligently defrocked the Literature repute of Kamii", (quote; stupid Sawada-sensei—) she was given a precautionary notice to make sure to do her hundred-fucking-percent best to perfect the next quiz to balance out her previous low grade. She was just a scholar, after all. What the heck do you expect from someone who spent every night practically scavenging for part-time jobs and, occasionally, her stupid trouble-making delinquent ototou-san?

So here she was, fingers clutching the book by whatshisname tightly, since, of course, Sawada-sensei had told them that the next pop-quiz was going to be about all of the contents of the book itself. But it was Saturday, and she had been planning to totally engross herself in the stupid book for the whole twenty-four hours — and then Yoriko-chan murders her apartment door.

("Touka-chan! You never would have guessed what I heard! Apparently there's this cute coffee shop down town, a couple blocks in District 20, which sells a-_mazing_ caffeine! Ooh! And also, there's word around the districts about this_ hot_ waiter and..."

Touka basically tunes out at this point, but glumly allows Yoriko-chan to drag her out of her small apartment because she doesn't really wish to get brutally murdered like her door. Touka takes note that she has to pay for that to get repaired. Unfortunately.)

And then here she was, again.

Touka's been reading the same sentence in the book for like twelve straight minutes — no, scratch that. THE SAME EFFING _WORD_. It wasn't her fault, really! It was—

"Touka-chan?" Yoriko-chan had called out her name gently, her eyes glinting worriedly as she lowered the menu that her hands have been holding from the start that they've sat in the homey café. "Is something the matter?" She sounded genuinely sorry for herself, for some reason.

Touka gulped, raising her eyes to look into Yoriko-chan's guiltily. Normally Yoriko-chan wasn't such a difficult person to be with, and was very kind and sweet and everything that Touka had wished for in a best-friend. But Touka's been taking Yoriko-chan for granted ever since high-school, and she feels that she kind of owes it to Yoriko-chan to hang out every single weekend, now that their friendship had barely stayed strong in college since she's been too busy in high-school hunting for jobs (and stupid Ayato).

"No, Yoriko-chan," Touka had said, trying to smile but failing miserably as a lock of her dark-plum hair fell onto her nose. She twitched. "It's nothing, really, go back to ordering. I'm fine."

Yoriko-chan had frowned, before setting her menu down slowly. "You know, Touka-chan, you could just go back to your apartment… it's fine, anyway, we can hang out next weekend—"

"No." Touka stopped her firmly, reaching a hand to pat Yoriko-chan's own reassuringly. "I told you it's _fine,_ Yoriko-chan. I'm just stuck in the same wor—_sentence _over and over again, that's all."

Yoriko-chan blinked at her, before cocking her head to peek behind Touka curiously, a small, sly, smile creeping up her face.

"I can see why."

A slender, beautiful woman was sitting directly behind them — about two tables away. She had the lightest lilac-shade of tresses, all leisurely held to the side with one scrunchie. She was holding a book, placed idly on the ridge of her table, where her elbows were resting casually. The woman looked mature, and intelligent, and, _damn_, out of every male's league—

Which was exactly the reason why she's been drilling holes behind Touka's back with those calm eyes of hers.

"Touka-chan," said Yoriko-chan, eyes wide and hushed as she leaned in, trying to look concealed (but ending up failing epically). "She's totally checking you out…"

Touka's eyes twitched, not bothering to turn around to give the _wo_-man a death glare. Her eyes had gone from Yoriko-chan's own and back down to her book, her knuckles turning paler by the second as she tried all her might not to crumple the page in her hands. Talk about _creeper_ issues.

"Whatever, Yoriko-chan," she said tightly, a vein appearing on her forehead, ready to burst as she continued twitching in suppressed irritation. "Just. Fuck — sorry. I. Can't. Frigging. Concentrate. On. This. Frigging_. Book_—"

"Maybe I can help you," said the purple-haired beauty with the eyeglasses, suddenly standing next to their table as her mouth curved into a soft smile. She leaned in to Touka, eyes glinting in a mildly suggestive manner. "My name is Rize. Rize Kamishiro. Are you free next Wednesday?"

Yoriko-chan gaped, while Touka jolted the book out of her hands in tremendous shock.

The make-up grade was _so_ not worth this.

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(In the corner of the small cafe of Anteiku, an ivory-haired teen leaned against the wall of the counter, eyes trained intently on the girl with the boyish clothes and short hair and pallid skin and cute face.)


End file.
